


The Arc of Ascension, Fragment s11,3: We Don't Want To Miss Our Flight

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [59]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A View From the Gallery, Alliances, Changing Attitudes, Chernobyl, Environmental Remediation, Environmentalism, Gen, Having Faith, Hearts and minds, M/M, Making the World Better, Memes, Other, Protests, Russia, Temple, The Concordat, Ukraine - Freeform, Vishkar Corporation, radiation cleanup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: The new gods have risen, ready to grapple with a world of heroes. Moira O'Deorain herself has been reborn, now made one of the creations her previous self meant to rule, and she works with her wife - the goddess Mercy - and their ensemble of new deities to remake the world, toimproveit... for everyone.The Concordat has opened many doors - including some thought shut forever. And with new opportunities, there are always people hoping to follow them to a better life.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Ascensionis a continuance ofOf Gods and Monsters: The Arc of CreationandThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. It will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, interludes, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow it as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	The Arc of Ascension, Fragment s11,3: We Don't Want To Miss Our Flight

_[May, 2079]_

"Come on, husband! We don't want to miss our flight."

"Calm down, Tymo!" Gennadi said, packing the last of his overnight bag. "We have two hours. And I'm ready."

Tymofiy looked at his watch. "I do not like to be late, you know that."

"I know."

Gennadi picked up his bag, and took a last look around the apartment his and his husband had shared, these last few years. It had been... nice. And an adventure. But also nice, despite the adventure, and maybe, a little, because of it.

The rent strike, in particular - that'd, they'd remember a long time. All the tenants, working together - it sounded like his great-grandmother's stories of the old days, not as they'd actually been, but as they were _supposed_ to have been. United, acting as one against the landlords, against Vishkar, or, he supposed, what Vishkar used to be.

And then - to win! Outright! Complete rollback, and... he smiled, just thinking of it. They'd thought Vaswani was the problem, not the local apparatchiks, but then, no, she'd swept in, seized the company away from the bastards of the old school, and... victory!

He felt they'd been a part of it, and, indeed, they had. And it had felt good to be a part of something that rewarded so many, so well.

The oblast administrator's attitudes, too, had certainly turned around. Not that she had all that much power - none of them did, they were just administrators - but ... suddenly, a lot more funding seemed to flow a lot more freely, with a lot less skimming off the top.

 _A real blow for the people_ , he thought, _solidly landed._

"I'm going to miss this place," he said, with a little bit of a huff. "I never thought I'd say that, when we moved here, but..."

"Thinking about the strike again?" Tymofiy knew that tone of voice. His husband liked to say he didn't like nostalgia, and yet...

"Yes," Gennadi replied. "We did some real good."

"I know. I remember - I just hoped we wouldn't get..." He shrugged. "Run out of town? Killed, even? Vishkar, well..."

"It's better, now."

"It is."

Gennadi stamped one foot down, and turned 'round on it. "Well. Enough of old memories. It's time to go make some new ones."

"I think so," his husband agreed, with an approving nod. "I'm looking forward to it."

The two young men walked out of their apartment, the door closing quietly - and locking - behind them, as they headed across the local streets to the thoroughfare, surrounded by people - neighbours - some of whom were moving with them, most of whom were staying behind.

A chance to go back, to the old family's town - cleaned up, almost back to pre-Chernobyl radiation levels, with work ongoing. A chance to be part of the rebirth of the north, of Poliske, the first city founded - or, really, re-founded - as a member of the Concordat. A promotion for him, a new job for Tymofiy, new opportunities for everyone willing to take a bit of the risk... who wouldn't want to be part of it?

It would be small, at first, but not lonely - not with Kyiv only a couple of hours away, and with Voronezh, linked as all Concordat cities were, free movement guaranteed. It might, in some ways, even become metropolitan.

"I..." Gennadi hesisated. "Let's stop by the church. One more time, before we go."

 _Sentimentalist_ , Tymo thought. "I thought you were tired of old memories."

"One last time."

The 'church' wasn't really a 'church,' per sé - or, at least, it hadn't been one. They'd started it as a bitter joke, a protest shrine, a space they'd requested - as was their right - for religious activities, the one they'd dedicated as a viciously sharpened spike against Satya Vaswani herself.

But after everything had happened, the space stayed. And so, a lot of different groups used it. With its hardlight emitters, it could be shaped and reshaped at will, inside, to form an Orthodox cathedral, or a Jewish temple, or a Muslim mosque, or whatever might be wanted, with any consecrated altars or objects stored in one of the many accessory rooms, and moved in and out as needed. Vishkar management insisted anyone who wanted to use it could, even that odd little group who seemed to worship pasta for some reason.

But between uses, it would reset to a default state, a definable one. And people had decided that would make a good hall of honour, for heroes of the Republic - and, in a few special cases, heroes of the world.

The two men walked in, through the open front door. Angela Ziegler's portrait had been added fairly early. Hana Song's, not long after Korea and the China Sea Omnium. And - when the north was reopened, made habitable again after so many years quarantined - Satya Vaswani's portrait followed.

Ironic, really. Exactly the opposite of what had been intended. But then, it was hardly a temple. Just a place, amongst many others, in a hall of honour.

Of course, that hadn't stopped gamers from setting up a little D.va shrine. Little piles of D.ritos would appear, as occasionally would cans of energy drinks stacked into pyramids. People coming in for actual religious services would snack on them, and the D.votees would pretend D.va had taken their offerings and heard their prayers.

Nonsensical memes. Silly stuff, really.

Gennadi pulled a single-serving mini-bottle of white wine out of his bag, setting it on the ground in front of Satya Vaswani's portrait. Then another one, which he opened for himself, and a third, for Tymofiy.

"Really?" Timofiy said, needling his husband. "Now _you're_ doing it, too?"

"And what's so wrong with a little toast to say goodbye?"

"Eh," Timofiy said, smiling a little. "Well, the Jews have the place next. They'll appreciate the drink."

"Exactly! I even made sure it was kosher. To Satya Vaswani." He tipped his bottle against Timofiy's.

His husband nodded. "She was not so bad after all," he agreed, before taking a sip, and looking pleasantly surprised at the small bottle. "Neither is this wine."

Gennadi laughed. "Wouldn't want to insult her with cheap wine, now, would we?"

"You're an idiot."

"You're a bigger one."

"I hear that from all the guys."

His husband moaned with dramatic exasperation, as Timofiy laughed.

"Twit. Why did I marry you?"

"For my looks. And the adventure, of course!"

"Well. At least you're not wrong about that."

"Aw. Softie."

They finished their bottles, together, reminiscing for a few minutes more, until, at last, it felt finished.

"C'mon." Gennadi gestured towards the door with his head, as he looked for a place to discard the bottle. "Let's go."

"It's about time," Tymo said, tossing his bottle into a recycle bin at the end of the row. "After all..."

"I know, I know - we wouldn't want to be late!"

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twenty-ninth instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Ascension_. To follow this story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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